Felines and Fluff
by theheartofadetective
Summary: Sometimes Sherlock likes to push things too far, especially when he's desperately bored and looking for some mental stimulation. One word prompt: Lion


**A/N: One word prompt: ****_Lion_**

Molly Hooper had her face buried deep within a book, trying to ignore the particular person sitting across from her. Well, she was looking at a book, but not much reading it. It was really hard to focus when she had a consulting detective sitting opposite her, staring at her most of the time, tapping his fingers against the arm of the sofa.

The worst part was that he was bored, and Sherlock Holmes was always at his most dangerous when he was bored.

He was like a child, really. Even to the point where she had to set rules for him. She would never normally do something like that, but he was getting a bit ridiculous. _No bodies in my kitchen_ was one of them, _no open flames_ was another, and _no trying to electrocute my cat_ had become the most recent one as of the other night.

At first, she would constantly look up whenever he made a sudden noise (on purpose to get her attention), but she was desensitized to it now, and he huffed in annoyance when he ignored her. Sometimes she wondered why she was so in love with him because he could be infuriating.

He had been living with her for a few weeks now after the Reichenbach Fall. It was difficult at first, and was still now, but in a different way. Before, he was upset, and rightfully so, about everything that happened. He made sure to let her know he was upset by cutting her down and insulting her when she tried to help him. But when he made her cry one day he realised how selfish he was being. He actually let Molly in a bit and he seemed to be bouncing back to normal.

So Molly was terribly happy that he seemed to be getting better, but that unfortunately was traded for him being a large pain in the ass. It was worth it- she didn't like to see him upset. She only hoped that she wouldn't rip his hair out.

"What is this?" she heard him say after what seemed like a long silence. She had finally had enough peace to fall into her book and she had not noticed that he was up from his seat and over to the rocking chair sitting in the corner of the room.

"That is a stuffed lion," she replied, "member of the feline family." She scrunched up her nose as she watched him dangle it by one of the arms between his thumb and forefinger. It was raggedy and dirty, but he did not need to treat it like such.

"It's sentimental if you keep it in this state," he pointed out, scrunching up his own nose in disgust. He wondered why he had not noticed it before; he noticed everything. "It was not out here until today."

"Yeah," she confirmed, annoyance edging in her voice. She just wished that he would put it down and leave it be, but she knew what he was starting.

His eyes narrowed as he observed her reaction; she looked irritated, but like she was trying to hide it.

"Very sentimental," he noted, taking pride and joy in his deduction skills. Of course he would not fall rusty, but it was something to keep him entertained. A problem was that sometimes he did not know when to stop, and failed to see when he was upsetting her.

Molly sighed, but kept her eyes on her book.

He was still holding it between his fingers as he looked it over. "By its state and sentimental value, it must have been given to you as a child. The tear in the leg and missing fur from the mane also says that you must have fought with your brothers not to pull it away from you."

"Sherlock," she replied, using his warning tone that he often liked to use on her. He really needed to stop.

"Likely given to you by a childhood friend- no, family member. They were close to you as you would not hold it with high value otherwise."

"Sherlock," she warned again, her voice a bit louder than before. Her hands put hard pressure on the book as she felt anger rising within her chest. She did not want to surface memories, hence why she would not have brought it up with Sherlock.

"The fact that you have taken it out just recently says that you don't like to think about it because it is a bad memory; an event must have happened in the past around this time of year."

"_Sherlock_," she finally said again and this time he stopped. He was expecting her voice to go higher with intents to get a rise out of her, but not in this fashion. Her eyes were closed and her voice had been quieter this time, strained like she was upset now.

"It was from one of my older brothers - the one that killed himself. Yes, he died around this time of year. Yes, it is sentimental," she let out a sigh, keeping her eyes closed now in fear that if she opened them, moisture would spill down her cheeks.

Sherlock was silent as he felt a pang of guilt. He realised that he took things too far, but he had not expected that. "Are you happy?" she asked, a sob coming from her throat. "Will you stop now?"

When Sherlock didn't say anything, she exhaled, trying not to be upset as she looked down at her book. Her hands shook as that was what her mind was stuck on now. Why did he have to be like that?

She felt him sit down on the sofa next to her now, very close to her. She froze for a second but kept her eyes on her book.

When she felt him taking the book from her grasp, she looked up at him ready to protest, but her mouth stayed closed as he was gentle taking it out of her hands, and a sympathetic look on his face. After placing the book on the table, he looked to her.

"I am sorry," he said softly as one hand came up to wipe the tear sliding down her cheek. Molly had not even realised that she was silently crying as she read her book, a few sniffs here and there. Sherlock leaned in and kissed her cheek before lying back on the sofa as he gently pulled her down to rest her head on his chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair as Molly lay against him. She missed her brother, and it always got worse this time of year. She wasn't going to whine about it to Sherlock though; he didn't want to hear that.

"I know," he said quietly as he kissed the top of her head. Normally Sherlock did not do well with this, but it was not hard to figure out that she missed her brother.

She let herself relax a bit more, sinking into him as she let him quietly console her. He placed the stuffed lion in her lap and she was greatly surprised at this, but could not help but smile.

Right, this was why she loved him. Even if he could be an ass at times, he made up for it. He never has bad intentions with her; they are just not always expressed in the proper way.


End file.
